Seed-time and Harvest Part 52

The year 1845 had arrived, and the world went on in its old course, and turned itself over, as usual. Day and night, and joy and sorrow, succeeded each other, just as they have done since time began, since the Lord appointed day and night, and placed man in the garden of Eden, and then expelled him from it. How many days and nights, and how much joy and sorrow! The day always dawns, and the night always comes; there is no difference. But is it even so with joy and sorrow? Are they as impartially divided? I think so! The Lord's hand stretches over all, and from his hand falls happiness and unhappiness, comfort and anxiety, upon the world, and every one has his share; but men are perverse, they will call their misfortunes happiness, and their happiness they take for misfortune; they push aside the cup of comfort, as if it were filled with gall, and they laugh away their anxieties.

The people, whom I have written about in this book, were no better than others, they did just like the rest; but there are two things which the Lord sends into the world as joy and sorrow, and no gall can embitter the one, and the other cannot be laughed away,--these are birth and death, beginning and ending. In my little world also, there was beginning and ending, birth and death; the fair, young Frau sat in Pumpelhagen, and held a little child, a little daughter, upon her lap, and the door of her heart stood wide open, for G.o.d's clear sunlight to s.h.i.+ne in. She could not help it. The dark shadows which had been closing around her were no longer visible to her eyes,--she must rejoice! and before the parsonage at Gurlitz, lay a grave, and two figures in black went silently back and forth, and when spring came, they planted flowers upon it, and when the linden leaved out, before the house, and the lilacs blossomed, they sat together on the bench, and leaned against each other, as in the old time, when the Frau Pastorin had wrapped the little Louise in her shawl. Now it was reversed, now Louise threw her shawl around the little Frau Pastorin.

And so these two mourners sat together, and looked over at the churchyard, and when Habermann came, there were three, and they sat patiently in the shadows, and did not push aside the cup of comfort, and when they separated, the evening star was s.h.i.+ning.

The first, violent grief was gone from the parsonage, but its marks were yet to be seen, beautiful marks, which the death-angel leaves upon human faces. He had kissed Louise upon her clear, high forehead, and the kiss remained there, lighting her face like an earnest thought; he had embraced the little, round Frau Pastorin, at his departure, and had taken away almost all her own quick, eager vivacity, and had left in its place only loving thoughts of her Pastor. She lived entirely in these. All must remain as it had been in his life; in his study, the arm-chair stood before the writing-table, the last sermon which he had written lay upon it, and the pen by its side, and the Bible of his childhood lay open, where she had turned the leaf at his death. Every morning she went first into this room, with her duster, and dusted and put everything in order, and stood long in thought, and looked at the door, as if he must come in, in his dressing-gown, and give her a kiss, and say, "I thank you, dear Regina." And at dinner, Louise put plates for three; and her Pastor's chair was always in its place, and it seemed to her as if he were sitting opposite, and talking in the most cheerful manner, and the remains of her own vivacity, which grief had left, reappeared at these times, for she did not push aside the cup of comfort.

But how long could this last? The parish must be supplied with a new pastor, and then she must leave the house, she must leave the village, she must sever herself from the grave; for there was no widow's house, and Pomuchelskopp would not build one, for he had no occasion for one.

For the last time she watched the blooming of the fruit-trees, which her Pastor had planted, for the last time she sat under the fragrant lilacs, where she had sat so happily with him, for the last time came the spring, and wound its wreath around the peaceful dwelling, for the last time came the summer, and strewed its golden blessing upon it: "Louise, when the swallows fly, in the autumn, we must be flitting too," she said, sadly, and she felt that it would be like another death.

Habermann was her truest friend, and she gave herself wholly into his hands, what he did must be right. He thought and thought, but could think of no way to spare them the removal; but he would make it easier.

Kurz the merchant had a roomy house, near his own, with a garden attached, which could be altered to resemble the parsonage. And Louise must secretly measure the rooms at the parsonage, how large the parlor was, and how long the wall, and then drive with her father to Rahnstadt, and Schultz the carpenter was sent for, to draw a plan after Louise's measurements. But he wouldn't do it, for "in the first place," said he, "I couldn't draw a plan after a woman's ribbon and ap.r.o.n-string measuring, and, secondly, it is not necessary; plan-drawing is plan-drawing. I don't believe in plan-drawing, I carry my plans in my head." And Kurz said, if it were arranged differently it would be much better, but Habermann was firm; it should be so, and if it could not be made so, the business was settled; and Schultz the carpenter said there was no sort of difficulty, and, if it could only be managed, he would go over, and take the measurements himself.

This was arranged, and he came before daylight while the Frau Pastorin was still sleeping, and measured the rooms, talking to himself the while: "Seven--seven--five and twenty, five and twenty,--Kurz--Habermann--Kurz--Habermann--awkward, awkward,--here there must be a projecting beam,--too great a strain, a bolt carried through,--so, so,--all right,--so, now out! out!"--and he went out to his brown ponies, and drove softly away, with the finest building-plan in his head that ever a man could make. The building began immediately, and Habermann, who took a diligent supervision, was, on the whole, very well satisfied, only he did not quite understand the projecting beam, but he yielded, when he observed that Schultz himself felt strongly about the matter, and when he came to know that that architect never in his life put up a building without a "projecting beam." Kurz also yielded his opposition, and so the removal was made as easy as it was possible for him to make it.

At Pumpelhagen, as I have said, there was great joy: the clear eyes of Frida rested on her little daughter, and before these clear eyes, mother-love had woven a light, sweet veil, as if it would conceal from the mother the future of the little one, and leave her undisturbed to dream and create. And there was nothing in her way, one happy dream succeeded another; and now again the clear sunlight beamed from her heart to Axel, when she held up to him her child. Axel's heart was also full of joy, he came continually to inquire after mother and child; but yet he had a slight feeling of disappointment; he had wished for a son, an heir of his ancient name. It is a horrible thing that a little innocent girl, from the first moment she opens her eyes to the daylight, should have to contend with the unjust wishes and prejudices of other people, and suffer on account of them. It any one had said this to Axel, he would have been very angry, for he was really glad, in spite of his disappointment; he had seated himself directly, and announced the "happy event" to all his acquaintances, even his horse-acquaintances, and Pomuchelskopp; three people only, he had intentionally omitted; his cousin Franz,--"that stupid boy,"--the Frau Pastorin at Gurlitz,--"that matchmaker,"--and Frau Nussler,--"that uncultivated old woman." And when he laid the letters on his wife's bed, and she wondered that these three were forgotten, he said coldly, he had nothing to do with these people, if she wished to do it, she must do it on her own responsibility.

She did it, accordingly; and after a few days came Louise, to offer congratulations, in the name of the Frau Pastorin, and Axel came into the room, and seeing the inspector's daughter said, "Ah, Mademoiselle Habermann! I beg you will excuse me," and went quickly out of the room.

And again after a few days, Frau Nussler came, with Krischan and the Phantom, driving into the yard, and Axel went off to the fields, when he saw them coming; and when he returned, and learned from Daniel that Frau Nussler was still with the gracious lady, he exclaimed impatiently: "I do not comprehend my wife, how she can take any pleasure in the society of such uneducated people!"

That was a very droll thing for him to say, for only a few weeks before, in a company of horse-raisers, he had p.r.o.nounced his friend, Herr von Brulow, of Brulowshof, a very cultivated man of science, and when a young doctor, who was accidentally present, had remarked that his education and science were not carried to a very great extent. Axel rose up, and said, over his shoulder, to the mistaken young man, if one had, in any direction whatever, such an experience as the Herr von Brulow in raising thorough-bred horses, and especially in the management of colts, he must be allowed, by the most envious person, the name of an educated and scientific man, even if he understood nothing else; for that business was one of the greatest importance. And yet in his eyes, this good woman was uneducated, though n.o.body in the world was better qualified to advise his wife in the nursing and management of his own little infant. Pomuchelskopp also had come, in his blue dress-coat, with gilt b.u.t.tons, and the coach with the coat of arms, and the four brown horses, and had brought his congratulations.

That was another thing, that was a genteel equipage! And he was very cordially received by Axel, and must stay for luncheon, and afterwards Axel showed him his thorough-bred mares with their colts, and Pomuchelskopp was highly delighted, and laying his hand impressively on Axel's arm, and looking up in his eyes, he said, "All very fine, Herr von Rambow, very fine for a beginning, but if you want to do something worth while, in horse-raising, you should have paddocks. The young animal should naturally be brought up in the open air. Freedom, freedom, Herr von Rambow! That is the first condition, if you mean to do anything of importance. And, you see, you have here the finest opportunity, if you take off four paddocks here, behind the park, for your thoroughbred mares, and let the field, up as far as the hill, be sowed with gra.s.s and clover, instead of grain; there is the brook down there, and you have the finest water. Something can be done. Of course," he added, as Axel looked a little thoughtful, "your inspector will not like the idea."

"My inspector has nothing to say, if I command anything," said Axel hotly.

"I know that," said Pomuchelskopp, pacifying him, "he knows nothing about such matters."

"But the meadow will be too small, if I take off this corner of the best soil," said Axel.

"Yes," said Pomuchelskopp, and shrugged his shoulders, "you must make a change with the meadow, for you have had the pastor's acre, hitherto, for meadow land, and the lease is out; and a little more or less will not signify."

"That is true," said Axel, with some hesitation, for what he had promised in an emergency had often annoyed him since, and it always puts a man out of humor, when he must give up something from which he has derived advantage and pleasure. But Pomuchelskopp was so friendly, so well-meaning and upright; he gave him so much good advice,--and--this he said by the way--if things didn't go right, he was always at hand,--that Axel shook hands with him cordially, as he took leave, and sat down to his reflections, with his head full of paddocks.

Habermann was crossing the courtyard; Axel opened the window, and called to him: "Herr Habermann," said he, "how far have you gone with the barley-sowing, behind the park?"

"I think we shall finish the meadow day after to-morrow; to-morrow we begin down here, by the brook."

"Good! From there up to the hill--I will tell you about the rest afterwards--you may sow Timothy, rye-gra.s.s, and white clover, with the barley. Send Triddelsitz to Rahnstadt, in the morning, to get the seed from David."

"But pasture gra.s.s does not follow barley."

"Do you hear me? I wish this piece of ground sowed for a pasture. I am going to put up paddocks there, for the brood-mares."

"Paddocks? paddocks?" asked the old man, as if he could not believe his ears.

"Yes, paddocks," said Axel, preparing to close the window.

"Herr von Rambow," said Habermann, laying his hand on the window-seat, "this is the finest soil in the whole meadow, if you take it away, there will not be enough for grain. That was the very reason the late Herr Kammerrath rented the pastor's acre."

It was the very thing which Axel had said to himself, and he knew very well that the inspector was right; but it is very irritating for a master, to acknowledge his inferior in the right.

"I shall not rent the pastor's acre again," said the young Herr.

The old man let his hands fall to his sides.

"Not rent the Pastor's acre again?" said he, "Herr, the field has brought us--I have kept a special book for it----"

"It is all one to me! You hear me, I shall not rent it again."

"Herr von Rambow, it cannot be possible----"

"Did you hear me? _I shall not rent it again!_"

"But Herr, I beg of you, reflect----"

"Eh, what!" exclaimed Axel, and closed the window. "A tedious old fellow!" he exclaimed, "an old fogy!" and he went back to his chair, and thought about his paddocks; but the fine pictures which his fancy had painted would not return, he must first get rid of the thought that he had again committed an injustice.

And the old man? How deeply grieved he went back to the meadow! How his attachment and grat.i.tude to the late Kammerrath struggled against the mortification he had so often endured from the only son of his old master! And of what use was this struggle? Of what use was he to the young Herr? None at all! Step by step, the young man went forward to his destruction, and his hand which could save him, and so gladly would, was thrust aside, and his heart which was brimful of love and friendliness to the young Herr, and his whole household, was treated as if it beat in the breast of an unfaithful servant, who thought merely of his own reward.

"Triddelsitz," said he, when he came to the meadow, "this corner, between the brook and the hill, the Herr will have sowed with gra.s.s; he will come out himself, and show you about it; let them sow the barley a little thinner."

"What is he going to do with it?" asked Fritz.

"He will tell you himself, when he sees fit. There he comes, from the garden," said the old man, and went out of his master's way.

"Triddelsitz," said Herr von Rambow, "this piece of ground, up to the hill, is to be sowed with gra.s.s; you shall get the seed from David to-morrow; I am going to have paddocks here."

"Famous!" cried Fritz. "I have always thought of that, whether we couldn't have paddocks, or something of the kind."

"Yes, it is necessary."

"To be sure, it is necessary," said Fritz, fully convinced. For no one must think that he was a flatterer; he really meant what he said, and if he had known what an expense and what trouble these paddocks would cost, he would certainly not have expressed this opinion; but--as I have said before--in all such crazy performances, he was united, with his whole soul, to his master.

"Have you a measuring-rod here?" asked Axel.

"A measuring-rod? No," said Fritz, laughing, in a rather contemptuous and yet shamefaced manner, "I have myself invented a measuring instrument. If you will allow me, I will show you," and he ran to the nearest ditch, and brought out a great barrel-hoop, which was all entangled with strings; into the midst of these strings he put his walking-stick, as in the axle of a wheel, and let the machine run.

"The circ.u.mference of the hoop is just the length of the rod," said Fritz, "and this hammer strikes on the board, when it has turned completely round."

"See! see!" cried Axel, his old delight in inventions reviving. "And did you invent that, all by yourself?"

"All by myself," said Fritz, but he should have said his laziness invented it, for he had a great dislike to stooping his long body.

"Well, you can measure the land for me," said Axel, and went back to the house, saying to himself, Triddelsitz was a skilful farmer, and a wide-awake fellow, he would rather have him for a manager than Habermann.

After a while, the old inspector returned to Fritz, very much out of humor.

"Triddelsitz," said he, "what are you doing? You have let them sow the barley much too thick."